Simple Reminders
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 5x09: Dean decides to get breakfast. Sam decides something's weird with his brother.


It wound up being a really great day, all things of last night considered.

Well, okay, when they woke up it was nice. They'd wound up crashing at a nearby motel (they'd been offered free rooms at the classy hotel but neither had wanted to stay) and had stayed under for a good twelve hours. Besides the long night of pain and stress, there'd been the day of hell to endure, the all night drive hoping and praying they weren't too late, and the long day before_ that. _They hadn't slept much the evening before, so both were completely okay with crashing early. It'd been around five in the evening by the time Sam had gotten up to look at the clock. "Go back to sleep," Dean had mumbled from the other bed, and with a smile Sam had obeyed.

When Sam opened his eyes again, the sun was already high in the sky. He yawned and rolled over towards his brother, but the bed was empty. Even after all the adrenaline surges he'd gone through in the past two days, Sam still managed to find some, enough to have him shooting up in bed and scanning the room. "Dean?" he called, but the bathroom was empty, the room vacant besides Sam. Despite the lateness of the day, it was still way too early for the bars to be open, and Sam honestly couldn't think of anywhere else Dean would have gone. Which meant he'd been taken.

Angels came to mind first, and Sam felt his mouth curl into a snarl. If one of them had kept him under while they'd taken Dean, he'd personally-

The door opened, causing his frown to drop instantly as his brother came through the door. "Oh, hey Sammy," Dean said cheerfully. Sam blinked, eyes locked on the bags his brother was carrying in. "You were pretty out for the count; I didn't want to wake you up."

"No, it's...it's fine," Sam said absently. Whatever was in the bags smelled divine, and when Dean set them down on the table and began removing styrofoam cartons, Sam's stomach couldn't help but rumble. Last thing he'd had to eat was a few peanuts from the bar to keep the liquor down. He couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd eaten before _that_. They'd just been jumping from job to job, trying to avoid the angels, take care of the demons they ran across. Avoid Lucifer and everything else he'd brought with him when Sam had set him free.

"You okay?"

Sam shook himself from his thoughts and glanced up. Dean was gazing at him with open concern, and it took him a minute to reply. "Yeah, just, uh, thinking," he offered lamely. He waited for Dean to turn away back to his task, like he was supposed to, but he kept staring at Sam with worry. Worry for Sam, and it sent him for a loop. This wasn't how they were.

"So, uh, what's in the bags?" Sam said with fake cheer, pushing himself up from the bed and stumbling over towards the table. His back felt sore, and his forehead still felt funny from being tugged and pulled by the ghost kid. He rubbed at it with a small wince; kid had yanked pretty hard on both skin and hair.

"Pancakes, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns. Think I got some french toast, too," Dean added, his smile starting to reappear. It fell away again as soon as he saw Sam massaging his forehead. "It still hurt? I thought you said the kid didn't get you."

"What?" Sam whipped his hand away and frowned back at his brother. "No, Dean, I'm fine. Just feels weird after being tugged at. I'm sure you're feeling the same way. And talking about feeling weird, what possessed you to go out and get..." Cups of orange juice besides the coffee, too. Everything for a complete breakfast. "All of this?" Sam finished with his arm outspread.

Dean gave a small shrug like it wasn't a big thing. "Figured you'd be hungry when you woke up, so I went and grabbed breakfast."

Except Dean never grabbed breakfast. That was always Sam's allotment. They'd never talked about it, but when Sam had returned to the hunt, Dean had asked for breakfast one morning, and Sam had all but leapt out of his chair to get it. Since then, it was Sam's thing to get. He didn't mind: it was the least he could do for Dean, after everything he'd done. And Dean got coffee. Sometimes.

But none of that had anything to do with Dean bringing home the entire breakfast buffet.

"Sammy?"

Sam focused back on Dean, who was looking far more concerned than he ought to again. If anything, Sam should be the one concerned, because Dean was acting beyond strange. Completely weirding Sam out strange. He wondered if he could subtly get to the holy water, then wondered again if he was past the point of being subtle.

"You sure you're okay? Did we put ice on it?"

And that was it. "There was nothing to put ice _on_, Dean," Sam said, staring incredulously at his brother. "And honestly, if we need to ask who's okay, I think it should be _me_ asking _you_!"

Dean frowned at that. "The hell are you talking about? I go out and get breakfast for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Sam waved his hands wildly in the air. "You getting breakfast! That's supposed to be my thing! You don't get breakfast, you get random coffee! And you don't keep asking me if I'm okay over being tossed around! This isn't you, Dean; what's going on? Did you talk to Chuck? Did he-"

"Maybe I just felt like it, huh?" And just as his anger got going, it deflated, leaving Dean breathing it out in a sigh. Sam's eyes couldn't get any wider, but before he could make a comment about that, Dean said quietly, "Maybe...maybe I got reminded of how we used to be."

That slammed all the trains in Sam's brain to a crushing halt. His arms fell slowly to his sides and he frowned. "What do you mean?"

Dean raised his eyes to meet Sam's. "I dunno, I just...after the whole weird larfing thing-"

"Larping," Sam corrected absently.

Dean paused, then honest to god chuckled. "Like that. We haven't done that in a long time."

There was an uncomfortable feeling rising that told Sam he knew exactly where this was going. "We're good, Dean," he said. "We're fine, I promise."

"No, we're not," Dean said firmly. "I mean, we're sure as hell doing better than where we were, and we're working together, we're getting back in sync with each other, but we're not...dammit, we're not Sam and Dean. That team we used to be."

"Not yet," Sam added after a moment, cautiously hopeful, and Dean nodded. The feeling of uncomfortable faded slightly.

"Not yet. We'll get there. But after I talked with the dynamic duo, which by the way is way more dynamic than we originally thought, they just made me realize that...our lives don't suck. Not completely. I've got a good car, I've got the capability to waste any sonuvabitch that comes my way." He paused again, then gave a small smile. "And I've got a brother who's willing to die for me."

Sam's throat felt a little tight, but he managed to nod anyways. "Always," he whispered.

Dean's smile broadened. "Yeah. Me too."

The lump in his throat disappeared with one hard swallow, and the remnants of the uncomfortable feeling faded to nothing. "Doesn't quite explain the hearty breakfast," Sam said after a moment, raising his eyebrows.

His brother's eyes fell to the floor, and the pursed lips were the perfect signs of embarrassment. This, finally, looked and acted like Dean. "Like I said, I realized I'm still a big brother, that I've still got my little brother. The one who's been attempting penance or something by getting breakfast all the time."

This time it was Sam's turn to flush, and Dean finally glanced up to give him a knowing stare. "It's just breakfast," Sam stammered.

Dean stretched out his hand towards the many styrofoam boxes. "It's just breakfast," he countered softly. His tone offered no room for argument, though, and Sam imagined it'd be awhile before it was his turn to get food.

Surprisingly, Sam was okay with that.

Dean looked like he was still waiting for an answer, so Sam cleared his throat and started removing the rest of the boxes from the plastic bags. "Well, if you're gonna do this and keep getting breakfast, I won't mind." He hoped the unspoken message was loud and clear as well. _If you're willing to forgive me all the way, if you want to still be my big brother, I won't argue._

Slowly Dean began to smile again. "Good. 'Cause I'm planning on doing it for a long time." Yeah, he'd heard Sam, and they both knew he was talking about more than the breakfast.

There wound up being way more boxes than Sam had thought there were, and three different types of syrup to go with the pancakes. Only Dean. Still, Sam wasn't going to complain or argue at all: Dean was acting like he used to, before deals were made and angels flew in. Sam had almost forgotten about that time when he'd assumed Dean's older brother status would never go away, that Dean would always look out for Sam and want him there through it all. It wasn't something Sam had really felt for awhile, but now. Now.

"How'd you get away from Becky, anyways? I figured she'd follow you to wave goodbye and blow you kisses or, you know, knock you out and haul your ass off. She was kinda predatory, dude."

Sam huffed out a laugh as they sat down. "Her and Chuck are a thing. Guess he was valiant and saved the day, and moved her attention from me to him."

Dean muttered something like, "Thank god," and reached for two slices of bacon.

They'd been comfortable before. But honestly, Sam couldn't remember the last time they'd been _this_ comfortable together. This type of team.

This type of brothers.

Yeah, today was going to be a great day. And apparently, if Dean had anything to say about it, the other days following would be great days, too. Better than great, and it almost felt like he'd been absolved of the last piece of pain he'd caused.

When he reached for a slice of french toast the same time Dean did, and Dean threatened to pour syrup in his hair if he didn't let Dean have _that_ particular slice since he'd seen it first, Sam knew they'd be fine.

END


End file.
